The last hour had been the most surreal, chaotic hour of Kal’s entire life. It started with the death of his mother, the incineration of his farm and the mark on his palm that made him a member of this invasion force. This “Order of the Holy Ascension.”

Whatever any of that meant.

They’d taken him to the rearguard and dropped him off there. The captain of the rearguard had been too busy for him and had gestured absently. “Not now,” he seemed to say, or maybe just “Get out of my sight.”

Surrounded by an overwhelming throng of soldiers, beasts and supply carriages, Kal had found no simple means of escape. And so he had just… wandered. Walked along with them and among them, blending in where he could. Eventually he found himself mixed in with non-armored men and women carrying and pushing supplies. When he saw an elderly man stumble while pushing a cart full of animal feed, Kal helped the man up and took over his pushcart.

The soldiers and beasts that made up the bulk of the invading force were in front of him, while Kal remained mixed in with the supply chain. As far as he could tell, every person here had the same mark he’d been forced to take on their left palm. But none had the sigils he had seen on General Kagle and some of the other soldiers. Did that make them forced labor? Slaves? There was no way to tell, and none of them were talking. They were focused on their individual roles, if not entirely enthusiastic about it.

Eventually, Kal could see Safehaven in the distance. Made sense, he thought. Where else would an army of invaders set their sights on if not the heart of Brightholme. Only problem—for them—was what they were going to find there. One great big, powerful, mighty Godknight.

Kal’s rage and disillusionment towards the Godknight notwithstanding, he couldn’t wait to see Brightholme’s Guardian swoop in. Then he’d finally be able to fight back. Ironically, in the shadow of the Godknight.

He’d never seen anything like this army. In all his imaginings—and he had spent much of his time imagining—he had never even conceived of the notion that something like this “Order” could exist. But the stories and legends of the Godknight and his past suggested that he had fought many powerful armies like this one in the days before Brightholme. Fought, and defeated.

Kal couldn’t wait for his chance to fight. How the Godknight would defeat so many without killing a one—which was a thing he swore he would never do—was beyond Kal’s understanding. Because Kal had no such code. Had sworn no such oath. When the Godknight arrived and the fighting began, Kal would ditch this blasted pushcart and kill every one of these bastards that he could.

How he would do that, he didn’t know. He’d never killed anything before, outside of what was necessary for life on a farm. And even then, it had broken his heart a little each time. But his rage and hate was so all-consuming, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate for a second. Even if he had to grab the first rock he could find and bash someone’s skull in with it.

The soldiers continued walking, the city growing closer. Soon Kal heard shouting and saw the soldiers beginning to form into tighter formation.

They were nearly in the city now. Yet, the Godknight had not come.

Why? What was going on here?

The entire army came to a halt and the supply chain stopped with them. From Kal’s vantage point, behind the armored men and women and the beasts they commanded, he could make out the top of the heads of the three giant beasts, one of which had so casually laid waste to his farm. Then there was an unintelligible shouted command, and the beasts were suddenly let loose. Kal gasped in horror, realizing they were running untethered, headlong into the city. The soldiers before him cheered in celebration.

Kal stood on the tip of his toes and craned his neck, trying to see more of what happened once the beasts entered the city. But it was impossible, his view completely obscured by the horde in front of him and the darkening storm above. All he could make out were the spires and towers of the city, still and calm.

He continued watching as a bright white spire, the top of a building with a purpose he didn’t know, suddenly started leaning a little to the left. It held that position, shaking and unsteady, for a long second. Then it finally gave way, tumbling end over end towards the ground.

It was all he could see, but it was enough. The rest he could imagine, these monsters running freely through the city, destroying everything in their wake. Including people.

Was that their purpose? The Order’s intent? To trample people with monsters? Kal asked himself, not for the first time, Who are these people?

Surely the Godknight would come now! Right?

Right?

Another cheer went up in front of him, and the soldiers all began to chant in unison. It took him a moment to decipher the word.

“Ascend! Ascend! Ascend!”

Then they began to slowly, methodically move forward into the city. He tried to follow with his pushcart, but someone held up her hand and looked at Kal as if he was the biggest fool in the world. Kal shrunk back and looked down at the ground, not ready to make any kind of move yet. There were still too many people around, including the rearguard taking up positions behind and around them.

It was beginning to drive him mad, just watching. Totally helpless.

He had to get out of here. He had to get into the city, try to help somehow.

Kal looked around for any way to slip out unnoticed. Nothing came to mind, so he put the pushcart on the ground and began wandering from carriage to carriage. He moved with purpose, as if he were given an assignment and was simply carrying it out. He was met with confused looks by the slaves—if that was what they were—but no resistance.

He came to a heavily guarded section where a large tent was being built. Kal saw healers moving about, and concluded this was to be some sort of treatment center for wounded soldiers. Still without any sort of real plan, Kal hustled over to a man with a sledgehammer trying to hammer a thick wooden post into the ground. He seemed to be struggling, and Kal braced his foot against the post.

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The man—middle aged, tired—stopped and looked at him with a grin. “You sure you want to be doin’ that, boyo? I ain’t exactly an adept at hammerin’ nothin.’ “

“I trust you,” Kal said, only because he couldn’t think of anything else to say or anything else to do. The man shrugged and grinned again, lifting the sledgehammer as high over his head as he could manage. ‘Damn,’ Kal thought. ‘Do you really have to hit it that hard?’

But he was committed now, and held his ground. As the hammer began its downward arc, Kal gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, fully expecting to feel the hammer breaking all sorts of his leg bones.

But no pain came, just a clean, solid ‘thunk’ sound.

“Will ye lookit that?” the man said, pleased with himself. “Dead center. Whoda thunk?”

“Great!” Kal said. He took his foot away and patted the man on his shoulder as he hurried by. “Good work.”

“Hey,” the man called after him. “We still gotta bang this sucker in some more!”

Kal ignored him, hurrying around a previously erected portion of the tent.

He found a pair of healers there, tending to a soldier who seemed to be suffering a dizzy spell. They helped him get out of his armor, then each put an arm around him and walked him over to a table, where they laid him down.

Kal eyed the discarded armor, abandoned on the ground.

This was his chance.

Scanning the area, he saw a smattering of guards moving about as workers toiled, mostly to finish building the tent. Nobody was paying any attention to the empty suit of armor.

Kal walked, as casually as he could manage, towards the armor, trying not to lock eyes with anyone, or appear to be out of place in any way. He reached it, and, just as casually, bent down and scooped it up, as if it were his all along.

He looked around for a place to sneak off and put it on, but came up empty. With the tent still being pitched in the open clearing, everywhere he looked was wide open.

So he did the only thing he could think of: put the armor on right there and then.

The metal of the armor had looked thick and unwieldy to Kal, but as he began putting it on he was amazed by its lightness. Kal couldn’t identify the black metal, though, and ultimately didn’t care to. He just had to get the damn stuff on.

He began—as one does—with the legs. He hadn’t known what to expect, having never seen a suit of armor outside of the Godknight’s and a few on display in museums or Elder Hall. But he never got the impression that the bottom half worked exactly like a pair of pants. And for the metal to be so malleable, bending and stretching easily to allow him to wiggle in with little problem.

“You there!”

The voice seemed to have come out of nowhere, and Kal practically shot right back out of the pants. “Bloody Hells!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his surprise. He turned towards the voice and saw a guard—a woman, in a similar suit of armor to his—approaching.

She walked right up to him and stopped. Kal froze, no idea what to do next.

“You need help with that, soldier?” she asked.

“What? Oh! No. I mean, yes. Uh, sure.”

She raised one eyebrow. “You nervous about something?”

Kal’s heart was hammering in his chest. “You kidding?” he stuttered. He laughed, a laugh meaning to sound cocky and confident. Instead what came out was a high pitched squeak of a sound that barely resembled laughter.

The soldier tilted her head, eyeing him even more suspiciously.

“Not nervous,” Kal said to her. “Just excited. Can’t wait to get in there.” He curled his hands into fists, began jabbing at the air. “And… well, you know…”

“Yeah,” she said, softening a bit. “I do know. Wish I was heading in there with you instead of stupid guard duty. But I’m just an Initiate like most of this lot. I guess I should be grateful to even be here.”

“Yeah,” Kal said, and laughed, a little less awkwardly this time.

“So what about you?” she asked. “I don’t see any sigils. You seem like an Initiate too. What are you doing with a suit of armor?”

“My… my dad.”

“Your… dad?”

“Yeah.” Kal rolled his eyes and tried to seem embarrassed. “He’s a captain. I guess he’s kinda...” he leaned towards her conspiratorially. “Pulling some strings.”

She smirked. “Yeah. Well, good for you, then. But why aren’t you with the main force? Lagging a bit behind, aren’t you?”

Kal continued to appear embarrassed. “I… I passed out, I guess. It’s embarrassing, I know. I guess I was just a little too… excited.”

She laughed at him and despite it all being one great big made-up story, Kal felt offended by her condescending laughter.

“All right then. Well, good luck in there.”

“Yeah,” Kal said. “And good luck in… out… here…”

She chuckled. “Sure.” And walked away.

Kal exhaled and took a moment to let his heart settle. But only a moment. He wanted to be out of here and wasted no more time, pulling the chest and torso plates over his head and fastening them to the pants. The arms were separate, but just as easy to put on. He lingered on the bracers, now wrapped around each forearm. He’d seen the soldier somehow produce a blade from one. Did all these bracers have a blade? How was he supposed to activate it?

He put that aside for now, finishing up with the helmet. Like the rest of the armor, it was much lighter than expected. The metal around his eyes limited his peripheral vision, but he hoped he could adapt pretty quick. The rest of the soldiers seemed to manage just fine.

He took one last look at himself, now fully clad in the black armor of the Order of the Holy Ascension. He knew he should feel disgusted, wearing the uniform of such a clearly evil force that had killed his mother and was about to attack the capital city. But he couldn’t help it. It felt good. And fit well, almost as if the malleability of the metal had conformed to his unique body shape.

He looked through the clearing and back out towards the city, seeing that there were still soldiers waiting to enter. If he ran, he could catch up with them in just a minute or two.

He started out in a jog and saw people turn their heads to look at him. Nervous, he looked for the woman he had just spoken to, and spotted her talking to a pair of guards. He caught her attention and waved.

“Thanks for your help!” he called to her as his jog turned into a run.

She held up a hand. “Good luck, soldier. Ascend!”

“Ascend,” he called back, and now he did feel disgusted with himself.

But he put that aside. He was free—sort of—and now maybe he had a chance to help out somehow.

And maybe, once the Godknight finally showed up, he could get a little bit of revenge too.